“Even though I could do you severe harm now?” He gave her a little shake, but although his hold on her was firm, and although it forced her blood harder against his fingers, he did not hurt her. “Why are you not afraid of me?”
“Because you are not a cruel man,” she rasped, her breasts tender and heavy beneath her gown, and a throbbing beginning between her legs.
“What makes you so certain of that?”
“Because I have seen cruelty before.” She looked into his shadowed face. “And because there is a difference between being capable of great harm, and choosing to act upon it.”
He cursed under his breath and brought her face to his for a blazing kiss. His hand twisted roughly in her hair, and his otherhand remained around her throat, a promise that although he had chosen not to, hecouldhurt her.
The thrill sent another burst of lust through her.
Perhaps she had not won his respect, never mind his love, but he could no longer deny that he wanted her, and that was enough for now. Knowing that he kissed her despite not truly wanting to meant there was something in their marriage to save.
He had defended her in front of her mother, and now he tilted her head to meet his, his body coming to rest on hers, and she welcomed the pressure.
Finally, she might discover what magic there could be between a husband and wife. Yes, he had implied roughness, but she was not a china doll. She rather thought she would enjoy the aggression, and hoped he would not think to be gentle with her now. Not when he had promised punishment.
His mouth opened hers, and his tongue swept inside, dominating, devouring her. He consumed her senses, holding her firmly in place so she could not move, pressing her into the seat, kissing her so thoroughly she drowned in sensation. This was not the same kiss he had given her at the masquerade; he kissed her now with the edge of anger, the burn of desire, as though he could not bear how very much he wanted her, yet he could not endure letting her go for another second.
She kissed him back as ardently as she could, drifting her hands along the breadth of his shoulders. There was so much to thisman she did not yet know. Every time she thought she might have gotten over it, she thought about the way he had looked, half-naked and bathed in candlelight. She longed to remove his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt, so she might put her palm against skin. Then she would be able to feel the subtle shift of his muscles, the gentle friction of his hair, the softness of his skin. There was so much she had yet to discover.
But he caught her wrists and broke away from her mouth long enough to say, in a harsh voice, “You may not touch me or yourself. Do you understand, Eleanor?”
“Yes, Sebastian,” she breathed.
“When we are like this, you will call me sir.”
“Yes,sir.”
“Good.” He brought her arms up to either side of her head. “Keep your hands here at all times.”
She sucked in a breath. The position made her vulnerable, and she was certain he knew it, leaving him fully in control. No doubt he preferred that. And was that little tingle of mingled fear and anticipation not what she wanted from this encounter too? She wanted nothing more than to yield herself to him. He would know what to do with her body better than she did.
“Yes, sir,” she said when it became apparent he was still waiting for her response. Apparently satisfied, he ran his hands downher arms to her sides, finding her breasts. They ached with the need to be touched, and when he cupped them in his hands, even through the layers of her clothing, she gasped.
“You will be silent,” he informed her. “My coachman is above, and although he will not be with us long, I would not have him made uncomfortable.”
While that may be true, and she had no doubt that if the coachman heard the way shewantedto moan, he would be made uncomfortable, she doubted that was the true reason behind his command. No, it was merely another way of exercising control over her. For him, she would have to bite back her natural instincts, and endure all he was doing to her silently.
For him, she would do so. In fact, the thought brought another wave of heat with it.
“If you make a noise, I will stop what I am doing immediately,” he informed her. “And nothing you say will convince me to begin again, no matter how invested you may be in the outcome.”
Theoutcome?She looked to him for clarification, but he merely took her hips and twisted her so she sat with her back against the wall of the carriage, facing him.
“Take hold of this,” he said about the strap over her head. “Don’t let go.”
“Yes, sir.”
He made a noise of satisfaction, though something about it seemed a little pained. He lifted her skirts, pushing them up over her calves and knees and thighs, until she felt bared to the world, exposed in all the ways she would never contemplate as being acceptable.
But this was Sebastian, and he took hold of her knee, widening her legs, then skating his fingertips up her inner thigh until he came to the apex of them. Her head spun with anticipation, though he made her wait for an excruciatingly long time until he finally let his fingers dip into the slickness waiting for him there. The hollowness of her desire bit into her, and she tightened her grip on the leather strap around her head. Liquid heat bloomed everywhere he touched.
“You are so wet for me,” he growled, approval evident in his voice. His hand went to his groin, but it was too dark to see what he did there. “Do you want me then, Eleanor?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes,what?”
